


Tequila

by theaveragebear



Series: Rhink Ficlets and Prompts [4]
Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Angst, Drunk confessions, M/M, Sort Of, alcohol use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-25 23:40:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18712045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theaveragebear/pseuds/theaveragebear
Summary: Tequila works in mysterious ways.





	Tequila

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted here. Based on an anonymous prompt.

There’s a reason Link doesn’t drink tequila.

It’s always the same. It goes down easy, the salt and lime lessening the sting of it. There’s a moment of calm afterwards when everything is warm and peaceful, his overactive mind quelled by the alcohol’s influence.

But then, all too quickly, it’s over and everything rushes back, more vibrant than it was before. The things he wants, but never asks for. The years of tamped down desire float up to the surface. They ride the wave of lowered inhibitions and drag him down a path he’s all too familiar with. He doesn’t even try to fight it, he’s going to end up there anyway—the pull is too great and he’s never in any shape to resist it.

It’s usually a bar, though. Crowded, noisy, everyone fighting for the bartender’s attention. But sometimes it’s like this. At one of their houses, unexpectedly empty for an evening, windows open to let the heat of the day escape.

When Rhett hands him the shot, wry smile playing at his lips, he knows what he’s in for.

The buzzy energy thrumming through Link’s veins helps the words fall more loosely from his heavy tongue, slipping out, revealing truths long kept hidden in the dark corners of his heart. Fueled by wayward confessions, Link’s hands ask for things they know they can’t have. They pull at Rhett’s clothes, tug at his resolve, push at his limits.

Rhett always caves, lets Link take what he wants, lets him pretend to forget it the next day. He calls Link’s bluff, meets him in the middle, as if it’s not what he wants too, as if his heart doesn’t pound at the sound of his name on Link’s lips.

They blame it on the booze, an easy scapegoat for their unsteady indiscretions.

But really it’s just them, stripped bare in more ways than one, set free by the alcohol and the increasingly limited space between them.

There’s a reason Link loves when they drink tequila.

It’s always the same. He goes down easy.


End file.
